Under the stars
by laurashrub
Summary: “Fifteen minutes without running a mile. That’s gotta be a new record.” “Well you know me. I like to challenge myself. Under the gaze of the stars, Sara has a conversation with a special person. I BLAME THE PLOT BUNNIES!


A/N

Apologies to those who have read this fic before but I'm in the habit of reading my own work once it's posted and I noticed various spelling mistakes and such that REALLY annoyed me so I needed to correct. Let me know if there are any more.

I have absolutely no idea HOW this little oneshot popped into my head, but after watching the episode 'Committed' I had the sudden urge to write a little CSI ficlet involving Sara and Grissom with a smidgen of fluff. I love those two and their relationship both professionally and personally.

I've tried very hard to stay in character but I ask that you'll forgive me if I go a little off-course. The worst part about writing this was describing their movements. They are not anything dramatic and I could clearly picture them in my head, but I had bother putting them down on paper.

On with the show!

* * *

Sara Sidle loved the stars. She loved the way they glittered high overhead, watching over everything. She loved how they gave people hope when everything else seemed to be going wrong and how optimistic they seemed to be. It didn't matter that they were merely rocks and gas burning millions of miles into space, to anyone who looked they were beautiful. But most of all, ever since her world was turned upside down by her parents, she loved how they never changed. How they remained constant no matter how hectic her life was or how much upheaval was taking place. Even when she was being bounced from home to home, family to family they were always there. Always shining over her. Even when she couldn't see them.

Tonight she saw them clearly. The constellations she couldn't name. The planets mixed up in there somewhere and maybe a moon or two. It didn't really matter. She knew that someone could probably name them all for her if she asked but to be honest she didn't really care. She just liked looking at them. It was one of her more simplistic pleasures in life. She allowed herself to smile. She couldn't imagine someone like Grissom or even Catherine just sitting back and allowing themselves to remain ignorant. But somehow, Sara couldn't imagine naming the stars. Their majesty and mystery was so awe-inspiring to her, that she felt that naming them would somehow make them appear…structured. Controlled. And heaven knows she had enough structure and control in life as it was! For instance, if she glanced down over the balcony she would see the beetle like cars and the bright lights that made up the highways and streets of Las Vegas. All structured in neat little rows. Of course these rows also had their shadows and rebels that someone would have to investigate and solve, but tonight she did not have to worry. Tonight, she would not think of the shadows on the ground. Tonight was for her and the stars.

A surge of babble and music from the party surrounded her for a brief moment as someone opened the sliding door to join her, interrupting her solitude. She did not mind. In fact, she knew who it was. Without even so much as glancing behind her, she allowed her eyes to travel to her watch before resuming her position on the rail.

"Fifteen minutes without running a mile. That's gotta be a new record," she commented casually, light smirk evident in her voice.

"Well you know me. I like to challenge myself," the familiar voice returned.

Footsteps sounded along the tiles, '_Dress shoes_', and a waft of cologne surrounded her as he reached her side. "May I join you?"

"Of course," she answered, waving a hand to indicate the rail. "Room enough for two."

She could hear the faint shuffling of fabric as he came to stand beside her. There was a pause and total silence came over them, interrupted only by the faint sound of traffic below them and the party behind them. Then, "Nice shoes."

"Thanks," she replied, vaguely before realising she couldn't actually recall which ones she was wearing. She shifted a little, hoping he wouldn't notice, and nonchalantly lifted the skirt of her dress to look. One glance at her bare feet reminded her that she had taken them off long ago and they were now resting in her hands. She glanced up again to realise he was smiling at her.

"Thanks," she repeated, this time giving her boss a half serious glare.

Gil Grissom didn't say a word, just nodded in acknowledgement, that secret smile of his never once leaving his face as he turned to gaze at the view.

Leaning her elbows on the rail, Sara leaned forwards a little, pretending the party behind her didn't exist. Oh, how she loathed them. Loathed having to suck up to a bunch of wealthy idiots who would shake her hand, tell her what a fantastic job she was doing (when they really had no idea what she did) and leer at her simultaneously. But of course, she thought wryly, get any one of them into an interrogation room and suddenly it's harassment and instead of doing a good job she was 'abusing her power'. Oh, how she hated these parties.

"Explain something to me," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Mentally she cursed herself for breaking the silence as her companion shifted his weight to watch her intently. "Why is it that you can see a person everyday when you are dressed down, hair in a mess, looking like a complete slob, yet when the word 'Formal' is used, we suddenly turn into a bunch of mindless plastic people who wear shoes that pinch their feet and act like idiotic monkeys who have never met each other before?"

"Don't insult the monkeys. They are actually very intelligent."

Sara had to smile. Grissom. Defender of the Animal Kingdom.

"Human nature," he stated, finally moving to answer her question. "We dress down every day but we long to show the world how lovely we can be. We spend so long seeing people at their visual worst that we become curious as to what lies behind the rags. Like a butterfly, we want the chance to show the world how bright we can be and a formal event allows everyone to become a Cinderella so to speak." Sara leaned on one elbow to turn and look at him, cocking her head when she realised they mirrored each other. "We claim appearance doesn't matter," Grissom continued. "But like the bird, we value plumage very highly. No matter how much shoes may pinch or shirt collars choke." He smiled ruefully before tearing the bow tie from his throat and taking out a few buttons.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Clip on," he answered her silent question. "I am always prepared."

"You are such a boy scout," she retorted, grinning like a maniac as he lightly nodded his agreement, a smile playing on his lips.

They stood in silence a little longer, enjoying each other's company. '_This is the nice thing about Grissom_,' thought Sara contentedly. '_You don't have to say anything, don't have to do anything and yet somehow you feel he understands. Like now, he understands that we don't want to say anything. Maybe it's just me but I feel that I can tell him anything and he can make sense of it. Even if he does go on crazy tangents. Like…_'

"Did you just compare yourself to a Fairy Tale princess?" she suddenly asked, eyes wide in realisation before they narrowed a little in confusion and suppressed amusement.

"In a manner of speaking," he answered mildly.

She chuckled at this, leaning her head against her fingers for a moment as a mental image of Grissom in a Cinderella outfit crossed her mind. "No offence Grissom, but you may want to think of a different comparison. You seem more of a…" she paused, struggling to think of a more suitable simile. "…Nutcracker than a Cinderella."

"Nutcracker?" he questioned.

"Yeah, you know." He shook his head a little. "Little wooden nutcracker? Given as a gift? Turns into a prince? Ballet?"

"I prefer opera myself."

'_Yeah_,' she thought sarcastically. '_That was the point I was trying to make_.'

"But I thank you," he continued. "But I believe the Cinderella theme could apply to yourself. You look stunning."

She was blushing madly now and she knew it. "I…uh…" Crap! Why couldn't she say anything? '_Get a hold of yourself!_'

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A light breeze caught her, cooling her flaming cheeks and ruffling her hair, a stray curl flying round her eyes. The dark red skirt of her dress waved a little, not quite having the energy to actually lift. Goosebumps dotted her arm as she rubbed them briskly, hoping to regain some warmth quickly before Grissom had the chance to notice.

"You cold?"

Too late.

"I'm OK." She tried to sound dismissive.

"You should go back inside."

"No, really. I'm fine." She glanced back at him, hoping he wouldn't notice the snappy reprimand in her voice. '_Of course he will_,' she scolded herself mentally. '_He's a CSI!_' He didn't say a word. Just met her gaze steadily with a look of understanding and…was that relief? No. Whatever it was was now gone, as if it had never been there. She smiled, silently apologising before returning her gaze to the view.

Beside her, Grissom appeared to be thinking. His eyes never left her face, but it was anyone's guess whether or not he actually saw it. He was lost in his own thoughts, his focus clearly elsewhere. He lowered his eyes a little, pursing his mouth. Wondering about something. Deciding something.

Sara didn't notice. Her eyes had travelled upwards of their own accord, back to the stars. Funny how they always seemed to call her. It didn't matter how terrible a crime scene might be or how much work she had to do. Somehow she always took a moment to look at the stars. She jumped as a warm, soft weight enveloped her shoulders. Glancing around, she turned to find a dinner jacket resting on her shoulders, covering her body. Grissom was still leaning against the balcony, looking as if he hadn't moved a muscle. '_Like I wouldn't notice his jacket was missing_,' the young woman thought affectionately. '_What kind of CSI would I be if I didn't?_'

"Thanks."

"You care to tell me why you would rather freeze than go back in?" His eyes never left the sky, hands playing with the bow tie, turning it over and over.

Her smile dropped. "Ecklie."

He really did look at her this time, curious. She recognised his 'Interrogation mode' from years of experience. Inquisitive, but waiting for her to fill in the blanks and giving off an aura of understanding, as if he were merely waiting for confirmation.

She sighed, leaning her head on her arms like a bored school pupil. "He keeps giving me that Look."

Now he really was confused. "Look?"

She shifted a little to look up at him. "The Look." He shook his head, clearly dumbfounded. She felt a rush of pity for her boss so she tried again. "You know, the one where he watches you intently, just waiting for you to trip up so he has some excuse to mess with you. Like suspension or maybe make you do something he doesn't want to do himself."

"Ah." Now he understood. "I am familiar with that Look. It's a particular favourite of his."

"Yeah?" She smirked mischievously. "Thought you might recognise it."

"How do you mean?"

"It's the same one he uses when he's looking for you. The one that makes you run and hide somewhere in the lab."

She could feel him bristle a little at the implication. "I do not run and hide. I simply…" He relaxed a little, wondering how to phrase this. "…DIVERT his attention elsewhere."

She had to laugh at this. "So that's what they call it now."

"Yo, Gris!"

Sara straightened, turning to see who had interrupted them. Nick stood there, half leaning out of the sliding door.

"Ecklie's looking for you. Sayin' something about a speech or talk?" He waited, clearly waiting for his boss to answer. He didn't. "He's holdin' Catherine hostage until you come back in."

The older man sighed heavily. "Tell them I'll be right in."

Nick chuckled lightly. "Catherine also says that if you aren't back in the next five minutes she's gonna make you do the paperwork for the next six weeks."

"Duty is what one expects from others," Grissom sighed, moving to stretch himself.

"Oscar Wilde, right?" Sara filled in.

"Oh and Sara? I think Greg could do with a hand. Last time I saw him the mayor's wife seemed to be trying to set him up with her daughter and he looked less than happy about it!"

"Ok, I'm coming."

The door closed and the two were left alone once more.

"Well, no rest for the wicked" Sara commented, bending to slip on her shoes once more. She straightened, arching her back a little as a bone or two cracked into place, shrugging off the dinner jacket in the process. "Thanks for the company," she added, handing it back to her companion.

"It was my pleasure," Grissom answered, light eyes twinkling with amusement. "The company out here was a lot more…fulfilling than I was expecting." He wriggled his shoulders a little, allowing the jacket to settle itself on his body before gesturing to the door. "Ladies first."

She stopped him from turning. "Hold on." He paused, waiting for an explanation. Unable to believe she was doing this, she reached out and began straightening his bow tie, tweaking it until she was completely satisfied before lightly brushing non-existent dust from his shoulders. "There," she smiled. At least no one could say he didn't look presentable.

He graced her with another smile and turned to the door. Looking as if he was trying to prepare himself for the wrath of Ecklie, he straightened his shoulders and walked towards the door pausing after opening it.

"Shall we?"

She grinned and joined him as they entered the hubbub of people, enjoying the feeling of comradeship between them before each turned their separate ways-him to pacify Ecklie, her to rescue Greg. She scanned the room, searching for the younger CSI, making a mental note.

Stars bring people together.


End file.
